The Kali Yuga and Satya Yuga Ages of Humanity

Why are things so difficult in this Age of humanity? Why are beings so immoral, so lacking in awareness, so polluted in theirs thoughts and actions? Why is virtue so rarified, and Joy so elusive, when such things are our very essence?

Having had so little experience with the human condition, such things are alien to me.  Nobility, after all, is our true nature.  As such, it was brutally disappointing, to experience the patterns of humanity over and over again as the utter lack of that basic consideration or recognition.

I did not understand.  Why would beings act in such a manner? What was causing the seeming lack of realization that defined the conditions of our lives?

As I left the mountains and the deep realms of Faerie, I would encounter many other characters in the Great Story of humanities unfoldment.  On the regular, they would spout philosophies or quote rhetoric from their brand of spirituality, with varying degrees of embodied vibration and gravitas.  A recurring theme, especially amongst those incarnates made of the ‘Indian yoga’ flavor of pattern, was the idea of the ‘Kali Yuga’ Age.

Mortal declarations mean very little to me, for they are rife with the splintered timbre of unrealized discernment.  Yet despite this, they invariably point, however inconstantly, to something deeper.  At the mention of the phrase ‘Kali Yuga’, a sense of vibrational Knowing blossomed within me, a sense of things seen at great altitude, these flickering human lifetimes expanded to flickering civilizations, expanded again to flickering breaths of a cosmic respiration, the breath of God, manifest across the skein of What Is.

I Saw then, that this was an Age of darkness.  Of corruption and sin (error), in which beings were wrought of the substance of a dim echo of what could be.  That the World, and all it’s foibles, was the result of something much greater.  A cosmic mudslide upon the Glory that is the deeper octave of humanities inherent potential.

Such was a difficult thing to digest, requiring all my faculties to find Acceptance for What Is, for in that grand vision I had glimpse of what lay before and after this ‘Kali Yuga’, the cresting foam of ambrosial light that heralds the Age of the Gods coming to the fore once again.  In contrast, even that brief inhale of the grandeur of the ‘Satya Yuga’ sparked a tidal of loneliness, a longing for the frequency I considered Home.

Yet with Acceptance there is Forgiveness.  As much as it may seem otherwise on the surface of our perception, we are driven to actions by forces larger than our ken.  Seen at depth, the patterns of consequence and circumstance that mark the mortal condition serve something grander, integral parts of our very definition of meaning.  To use metaphor from the same mythos of this Age which frames the ‘Yugas’, without the mud, there is no lotus to blossom.  As frustrating as the darkness which has been our lot during these transformative times has been, it is within such things that we forge the very character which aligns our many viewpoints with the Divine, in which we step from darkness inevitably back to Light.

 

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